Read Ebook: What Might Have Been Expected by Stockton Frank Richard

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Ebook has 650 lines and 50776 words, and 13 pages

A murmur of voices inside the room told him that Atherton and Frost were there. He could not hear what they were saying, but he had anticipated that, and that was why he had opened the window of Frost's room.

Having satisfied himself of the whereabouts of the two, he stole to the door of number twenty-seven, adjoining, picked the lock, glided into the room, and closed the door behind him.

Groping his way softly along the dark room, he quietly opened the window and stepped out on the fire escape.

The platform of the fire escape extended from the window of number twenty-seven to that of number twenty-five, and all Max had to do was to creep along the iron grating until he was beside the window with which he had previously tampered.

When he reached it, he crouched down, hidden by the dark shade which had been drawn, and put his ear close to the crack.

He could now hear every word that was spoken, and, it was plain to be seen, it afforded him the liveliest satisfaction.

"So I was right!" he thought triumphantly, "I suspected it for some time, but now I know it. I must have some more tangible proof, though. I must see the thing done, and find out who else is in the plot. And then--farewell to the old Mar, and hurrah for a life of ease and luxury."

THE WAITER HAS A WIFE.

The waiter remained outside the window until he heard Atherton leave the room, then he stole back to number twenty-seven, left things exactly as he had found them, and descended to the waiters' room, where he changed to street attire.

Ten minutes later he left the premises, and at the end of half an hour he let himself into a modest little flat in a "model" tenement house on East Seventy-seventh Street, near the river.

Here he proceeded to do other things which were out of the ordinary for a club waiter.

For instance, he changed his clothes once more, and, after he had done so, he loaded a revolver and stowed it away in one of his pockets. He put a fresh battery into an electric flash light, and slipped that into another pocket.

He next went down to a room in the basement, in which a motor cycle was stored, and he spent half an hour in pumping up the tires, tinkering with the lamp, oiling the bearings, filling the tank, and generally putting the machine in order for a run.

Finally he returned to the little sitting room, set out a frugal supper for two, consisting of cold beef and potato salad from a delicatessen store, bread and cheese, and a bottle of first-class claret--the last named being from the cellars of the Marmawell.

When all these preparations were completed, he lighted a pipe and consulted his watch.

"Half past nine," he mused. "I needn't start for the theater for another hour yet."

He opened a black leather case and drew out a well-worn mandolin. Dropping into an easy-chair, he started to play the instrument in a fashion which proved that he was both a passionate lover of music and a capable performer.

Any one popping into the little room and seeing him leaning back in that easy-chair, with a far-away, dreamy look in his half-closed eyes, and a rapt expression on his face, would have found it hard to believe that he was capable of the side he had shown shortly before.

To say the least, he must have been a curious combination of the poetic and the matter of fact, of the dreamer and the doer, otherwise that revolver in his pocket, for instance, was decidedly out of place.

Such was the case, and, moreover, the man had had many ups and downs, which his pretty wife had shared.

The latter was an American girl, who had married him some five years before, and who now--because funds were low--had returned to her former calling. In other words, she was back on the stage, in the chorus of a Broadway production.

Elaine Stowe was the name by which she was professionally known.

Max was a most devoted husband, and never allowed his young wife to return from the theater alone. As a rule, he left the flat about half past ten, and was waiting at the stage door when Elaine came out.

To-night, however, he was so absorbed in his mandolin--and in other things--that he forgot all about the flight of time, and he was positively amazed when the door opened and there walked into the room a remarkably attractive and well-formed young woman, cheaply but effectively dressed, with an innocent, babyish face lighted by a pair of big blue eyes.

"Elaine!" he ejaculated, jumping up and laying his instrument aside. "Why are you home so early to-night?"

"Early!" the girl echoed with a laugh, unbuttoning her gloves. "Do you call half past eleven early?"

"Your plans for the future?" Elaine repeated, with just a touch of irony in her voice. "More plans of making our fortunes, I suppose?"

Her husband nodded.

"Yes," he answered. "I know what you think, but you're wrong this time, as it happens. These plans are the real thing, and I'm going to put them through."

Elaine shrugged her dainty shoulders.

"I wonder how often I've heard that," she said wistfully. "We're always going to make our fortunes, but somehow or other something always turns up at the last moment and messes up our schemes."

"I'll tell you while we're having supper," Max replied. "I haven't too much time, for I must start in three-quarters of an hour."

"Start? Where are you going?" his wife asked curiously, as she removed her hat and coat.

"That doesn't come until almost the end of the story," was the answer. "Sit down and you'll hear it all."

The girl obeyed wonderingly, and Max began.

"Do you remember," he said, "that very shortly after I started work at the Marmawell, I told you I had a suspicion that Alfred Knox Atherton was more or less crooked?"

"Yes," answered Elaine, "you've said so often, and you made the same statement about another member of the club--Frost, I think was the name. You told me you thought he was so crooked that if he ever fell out of bed he could rock himself to sleep on the floor."

"That's right," agreed the waiter, with an appreciative grin. "I couldn't give you any reason for my suspicions, though. It was just instinct, I guess. You know the old saying, 'set a thief to catch a thief.' It must have been that. Being a rogue myself, I instinctively spotted a fellow rogue when I saw him. Anyhow, I was convinced that Atherton and 'Jack Frost,' as they call him, were playing some deep game of a crooked nature, and I determined to find out what it was."

"And have you found out?" asked Elaine.

"I certainly have, and it is a deeper game and a more crooked one than ever I dreamed of."

"This sounds interesting," remarked the girl, pouring out a glass of wine for herself. "Do tell me what you have discovered."

"Well, about half past six this evening," her husband explained, "Frost came to the club and asked me if Atherton was there. When I told him he was not, he said he would go up to the writing room, and I was to let him know when Atherton arrived. There was nothing much in that, of course, but it showed me that Atherton and Frost had arranged to meet at the club this evening.

"Presently Atherton put in an appearance. He came into the cardroom, which was deserted at the time, and asked me if Frost was about. I told him Frost was in the writing room, and asked him if he would go up. His answer showed me that he wished to see Frost alone, for he asked me if there was anybody else in the writing room, and when I said there was, he told me to tell Frost to come down to the cardroom. It was plainer than ever that they shared some secret, so naturally I determined by hook or crook to hear what they had to say to each other.

"I delivered Atherton's message to Frost and the latter came down to the cardroom. Before he had a chance to say anything of a personal nature to Atherton, however, a couple of other men walked in, and I saw Atherton scowl at them.

"While I was taking their orders, I kept my ears open, and heard Atherton and Frost arrange to meet in the latter's private room upstairs.

"As soon as I got that tip, I slipped upstairs, used a skeleton key on Frost's door, and opened his window a little from the bottom. I passed Frost on the lower flight, and a few minutes later Atherton left the cardroom and went upstairs.

"Very clever!" commented Elaine. "And what did you hear?"

"GOOD-BY TO THE SIMPLE LIFE!"

He told her what he had heard, and her big, blue eyes grew bigger still with incredulous amazement.

"You take my breath away!" she gasped. "Alfred Knox Atherton, one of the idols of New York society, who is hand in glove with most of the 'big bugs'! It sounds unbelievable."

"It's a bit of an eye opener, isn't it?" chuckled the waiter. "What a sensation I could create if I hunted up a reporter and filled him up with the details of that little conversation in Frost's room! But, of course, I'm not going to do anything of the kind. It's too good a thing to give away. It's a veritable gold mine, and I'm going to work it for all it's worth."

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